


Below My Feet

by DreamingStarkly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy kissing yay!, M/M, Season 8 Spoilers, Slash, Thingstiel, Trueform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingStarkly/pseuds/DreamingStarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester begins to see Cas's true form, unbeknownst to his brother or the angel. But Dean can't really find it in himself to care, especially when his eyes do not burn out in the process of piecing together the incredible being that is Castiel. </p><p>Lyrics: Below My Feet by Mumford & Sons (because, let's be honest, that entire album is Destiel and you will never convince me otherwise)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Below My Feet

At first Dean only got glimpses when the angel was really fired up, like when they were battling demons. At first he assumed it was a trick of light—maybe the flash of his gun reflecting oddly off of Cas’s sword, or the unholy static when Sam stabbed a demon close to the angel.

But then he started to see it during the day—in the motel room when he was balancing between awareness and sleep and Castiel was talking quietly with Sam as Dean took a well-deserved catnap. It would disappear as soon as the hunter realized what he was seeing, but Dean could not get the picture out of his mind. It started to happen often enough that when Dean tried to focus on it, the vision would slide from his mind like a mirage. 

He probably should get his head checked, but Dean could swear he could see Castiel. Not the trenchcoat-clad human vessel, but the skyscraper of light and wings that defied the laws of physics and how the _hell_ did this guy fit in a Jimmy Novak-sized body? 

Yeah, he needed his head checked. Last thing anyone knew seeing an angel’s true form meant two blackened holes for eyes. Dean’s vision was perfectly intact so there was little evidence to support that what he was seeing was real. 

Eventually Dean got to the point where he accepted the whole thing as a quirk and possibly a sign of dementia. Few hunters get to this point without losing a few crayons, right? 

Truth was that he kinda started to _like_ catching glimpses of celestial wing and that terrifyingly inhuman face. Maybe it was proof that he really was crazy, but after the initial shock and fear started to wear off Dean kept trying to piece together the real being that was Castiel. 

Dean convinced himself it was curiosity, not obsession. But sometimes it seemed like that particular self-delusion was a losing battle. Like the one time he nearly ran Baby off the road as he was counting the number of eye-things on Castiel’s wings in the rear-view mirror (to be fair, they were colors no human being has ever named).  Or the time Dean managed to get the full effect of Cas’s face. He dropped his coffee all over his suit while the three of them were interrogating suspects in Chicago. Could you blame him, though? Cas’s face was every type of glorious, and Dean had seen the O-face of a certain A-list celebrity married to Brad Pitt. 

These were little things; but as time went on even Sam was beginning to sense that something was up. Dean just brushed it off as stress from the job. He had a handle on it and there was no need to fuss over spilled coffee except the hassle of a dry-cleaning bill. Sam did not seem 100% convinced, but he dropped it. 

Dean was, perhaps, slightly afraid that Cas might catch on as well. While the angel in question was not exactly an expert on human behavior, Castiel wasn’t _stupid_. Maybe Dean should have paid a little more attention to his multidimensional friend because if there was anything that the two of them now had in common it was staring with fascination at one another. 

Okay, maybe _he_ was the stupid one here.

It was a lazy afternoon in August, and the three of them had finally settled into a routine at the Bat Cave. Sam was out on a grocery-run. Dean was dividing his attention between an old western on the motel TV and Castiel’s hands. The angel was focused on a manuscript, humming and making comments about the material every once in a while—“Close to the original, but they did not get the dialect of the era correct” or “This is well-researched, even for humans”. That kind of thing.  

Dean would make an appropriate response, but mostly he was trying to figure out how the angel-sword manifested seamlessly from a gigantic staff-thing tucked into the “skin” of Cas’s arm to the letter-opener Cas waved around in this world. Probably the same reason why Cas was able to fit into Jimmy. Magic was fucked up science, man. 

The sounds of the television faded a little as Dean watched the angel’s hands shift and flex. As was often the case these days, Dean’s examination of one part of Castiel’s body shifted to his wings (they were just so _cool_ ) and eventually to his face. Or, rather, faces. 

It took him a while, but Dean was finally able to differentiate Castiel’s many faces. The impression was, at first, that the guy had one face—which was scary enough by its own merit—but when Dean looked more carefully at the angel’s true form he saw at least three more. Sometimes they were vaguely familiar as earthly beasts and sometimes they were too human to be anywhere near comfortable. 

But that was the thing—Dean got comfortable with it. In fact, he started to admire the glow off of one of Cas’s cheeks and the shift of energy that would precede any slight movement. The juxtaposition of the entirety of Castiel was disorienting at first, but Dean was just beginning to be grateful to see it. It was almost soothing to watch his eyes shift over the pages of something so mundane. The fact that such a bizarre and amazing creature would consider befriending an ex-torturer, full-time-douchebag like _Dean Winchester…_ Dean pushed the self-loathing down for a moment for the sake of examining Castiel’s eyes once more. 

To be honest they weren’t much different from his physical eyes. Inhuman stoicism for the most part, but every once in a while he would see a flash of emotion. The features on Cas’s face would shift ever so slightly, and suddenly Dean had the urge to reach out and touch the skin made of pure force. He wondered what it would feel like, or if his hand would simply pass through. It was fascinating to see the angel flicker from soldier-of-God to the strange curious being that Dean had come to know and— 

“Dean?” 

The hunter blinked and came back down to earth. Castiel’s physical eyes were boring into his. He looked concerned. More importantly, the manuscript had somehow disappeared and when did Cas walk over? 

“Huh?” Dean grunted intelligently. 

“You were staring at me.” 

Shit. 

“Uh, no,” he denied, straightening in his armchair. “Just spacing out, I guess.” 

“Really? You look like you were in pain.” 

“I’m fine, Cas.” 

The angel studied Dean for another moment before speaking again.

“You’ve been spacing out quite often,” Cas stated slowly, as if he was encroaching on a subject that had been bothering him for a while. 

Dean did not deny this, but instead looked away to feign interest in the cowboys duking it out on-screen. He heard Cas sigh in restrained frustration. 

“It appears you only have these distractions when you are looking at _me_.” 

Dean cleared his throat, but nothing seemed to want to come out. So he shrugged weakly and made a non-committal noise while continuing to seem fascinated by John Wayne. It was working up until the point where a gigantic wing made of eyes and lightning and stars _whooshed_ right in front of his nose. 

If Sam had heard the noise that had come out of Dean’s mouth as he scrambled over the back of the armchair, he would never live it down. 

Within a breath Castiel was holding onto Dean by his lapels, and Dean had to force himself to look at Castiel’s physical face instead of the ( _way_ more) terrifying angelic fury of his ethereal self. “How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me? Or Sam? Do you understand how _dangerous_ this is, the fact that you can see my wings?” 

“It’s not a big deal, Cas. Hey, so I get a free show seeing your faces and some fancy wings, it’s not—” 

Fear, Dean could understand, but the _panic_ in Cas’s eyes was completely unexpected. 

“I suspected…” the angel stammered, eyes wide as he backed away from Dean. “I had no idea...” 

And with that, Castiel vanished. 

“Sonuvabitch,” was all Dean could say. 

That definitely did not go well.

 

* * *

 

“That is…crazy, Dean.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

“I can’t—you still have your eyes?” 

“Apparently. Wouldn’t be driving right now, would I?” 

“So,” Sam said, leaning forward, his mammoth brain trying to grapple with the situation, “what are you going to do now?” 

“Hell if I know, Sammy,” Dean groaned, rubbing his palm against his forehead. “I’ve tried prayin’ to him, but obviously that ain’t working.” 

“What are you saying to him?” 

“Sorry I scared him, I’m really okay, I dunno, man!” Dean grumbled, gripping the steering wheel in annoyance. “How do you convince an angel you are _pretty_ sure you aren’t gonna spontaneously combust? Let alone _Cas_? The guy is still reeling from that whole Leviathan bullshit.” 

“I know, Dean, it’s just…you guys have always had this weird thing going on—” 

“What _thing_?” 

“—so this just seems to be one part of it,” Sam continued. “Cas is going to come around at some point when he realizes your eyeballs aren’t falling out of their sockets.” 

Dean sighed. His brother was right, for the most part. Cas was a flighty thing (pun intended), he just needed time. In fact, Dean could probably use some time as well to consider this mess from his end. 

So he tried the letting Cas have his space thing. It helped, at least for the first forty-eight hours. After that, Dean started to get it in his head that the angel might not be coming back for fear of burning Dean’s eyes out. These notions did nothing but distract and irritate him. Sam was getting pissed at Dean’s tetchy mood that only got worse with time. The forth day, they went out to investigate a haunting three countries over. After the fifth day, when Dean refused to stop pacing in their motel room, Sam demanded to drop Dean off back at the Bat Cave to sort things out by himself. 

“Once you and Cas work this out like adults, call me,” Sam deadpanned before peeling off in the Impala. Dean flipped him off and stormed into the bunker muttering obscenities. 

“O’ Castiel—you stubborn bastard—please hear my prayer. This whole pouting thing has gone on long enough, man. I pray that you get your ass down here so we can talk.” Dean paused to look around. Nothing. 

Dean kicked at a table leg and threw his hands up in aggravation. 

“I promise not to peek, you great ethereal dic—”

“Dean.” 

The hunter turned to his left to see Castiel standing awkwardly by the doorway. He looked worried and more rumpled than usual. Even his glowy self wasn’t quite so glowy today. 

“You said you wouldn’t peek,” Cas pointed out, narrowing his eyes. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but rolled his eyes and put his back to the angel. 

“Alright, so what’s with the cold shoulder, huh?” Dean asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There was silence from Cas at first, but when Dean started to turn around again he spoke. 

“I was researching,” Cas told him. “How long have you been seeing…me?” 

Dean coughed. “Uh, about two months now? I mean, I was only catching bits and pieces at first.” 

“At first?” 

“Well, yeah. Took a while, but now I think I got the whole picture. More or less.”

“You’ve been trying to see me? Dean—” 

“I know it was stupid, Cas! I know! I saw what it did to Pamela, and fuck it scared me at first. I just couldn’t—” Dean clenched. “I didn’t want to stop, okay?” 

Castiel was quiet for a moment. 

“Why?” the angel asked. He sounded legitimately confused. Dean imagined that Cas was doing his head-tilt thing, which made him laugh. 

“Why?” Dean repeated, chuckling in disbelief. “You’re fucking _unbelievable_ , Cas, that’s why. I’ve seen some things, you know. Monsters and demons and gods and ghosts. But man, you really take the cake. You—all of you—was just so _cool_. I never knew anything could be as beautiful—” 

 _Whoa there cowboy!_ his brain screeched as it finally caught up with his mouth. Fuck, shit, fuck. 

“Angels, you know? I didn’t realize angels were—” Dean cleared his throat weakly. “Yeah.” 

More silence. Dean was pretty sure he was beet red at this point, and he had to force himself not to turn around to see if Cas hadn’t flown the coop. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Dean twitched in surprise. Cas’s voice was way closer now, directly behind him in fact. 

“And I mean _at all_ , even the slightest twinge in your eyes?” Castiel asked. 

“Aside from the occasional tension headache from looking at one place for too long?” Dean said. “No.” 

Cas did not move for a moment, but then Dean saw him inch into his peripheral. Eventually Cas was standing directly in front of him. 

“I was unable to find out how you have managed to see my true form without bringing harm to yourself,” the angel stated. 

“Does it matter?” Dean asked, quirking a brow at his friend. “No harm, no foul. Just don’t up and vanish like that again. I felt like a dick.” 

“Unless you begin to feel pain at the sight of me—” Dean snorted at the idea. “—I will not abandon you like that again,” Cas promised. Dean managed to grin at that, and Cas mirrored it. To his delight, Dean saw one or two other faces light up in tangent. 

The itch returned, the instinct to reach out and feel what those features felt like on his own flesh. 

Oh, what the hell? 

Maybe he should have asked permission first, though honestly Dean knew Cas would have refused and he would have lost his chance. Castiel touched his soul before, didn’t he? The angel should consider this payback. 

Height did not really matter, since the law of physics did not technically apply to multidimensional beings. Dean saw Cas’s faces, so he could reach out and touch the one that was in the center, the one that looked like an immutable mask. But Dean knew better. 

It was a strange dual sensation. His hand brushed against the unshaved cheek of Jimmy Novak’s body, but Dean could feel—actually tangibly _feel_ —Castiel’s skin. It was like skimming his palm across living silk charged with thunder and galaxies. Or something crazy and impossible like that. 

“Awesome…” Dean breathed.    

Dean half-expected Cas to bolt like before, but to his surprise Cas only widened his eyes (all of them) in shock and did not move. Slowly—catching a pair of eyes to make sure it was okay—Dean moved his hand to lightly brush his fingers against Castiel’s right wing. The sensation was slightly different, more powerful, like the hum of Baby’s engine before Dean slid her into top gear. 

When Dean shifted his focus back to the physical, he saw blue eyes and slack mouth. Dean suddenly grew very aware of the intimate position he had just placed the two of them in without blinking an eye. He dropped his hand from Castiel’s wing, but he could not bring himself to step back. 

“Was that…?” Dean started, his voice slightly hoarse and wary. 

Without warning, Cas grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and pulled Dean down to his mouth. 

Oh. Okay. This was— 

Dean’s hand went back up and slid up Castiel’s neck, pulling the angel closer. 

Okay. _Wow._  

He beat back the feeling of panic and _what the fuck is happening, Dean Winchester?_ in a wave of stubbornness and need and _wow_ , where was this coming from? 

Truth is—Dean did not give a flying fuck if this was the strangest thing that has ever happened to him because 

—with the feeling of angel wings wrapping around and covering his shoulders as Castiel’s clapped lips and electric skin moved over his mundane human ones— 

Dean Winchester was also pretty sure that this was also the _best_ thing that has ever happened to him. 

 

_You were cold as the blood through your bones_   
_And the light which led us from our chosen homes_   
_Well, I was lost_


End file.
